


What Happens in Ibiza...

by killingsaray



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: 3x08 Goodness, Alt Title: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, Choking, Cunnilingus, Escape Relations, F/F, Handcuffs, Porn With Plot, Power Exchange, Smut, Some Humor, Top?Alta, Tribbing, Zalta, Zalta Supremacy, does this count as Bottom!Zule?, utter fucking FILTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29240703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: “So? What is this, like, a thing now?”Neither Zulema nor Altagracia responds. Not that Saray expects them to. Altagracia is just as secretive about her personal shit as Zule is.”ORThe events before the girls are recaptured in 3x08.
Relationships: Zulema Zahir/Altagracia Guerrero
Comments: 24
Kudos: 62





	1. Power Play

**Author's Note:**

> for my little piscean chameleon, tildacita. ✨

* * *

_”I wanna be the one to walk in the sun. Oh, girls, just wanna have fun.”_

_-Cyndi Lauper, ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’_

* * *

Fucking Ibiza. 

It’s hot. In every sense of the word. 

Hot weather, hot sandy beaches, hot parties, hot women. For fuck’s sake, she should be knuckle-deep into the bikini-clad, blonde waitress that keeps purposefully leaning over way too far when she sets Zulema’s drink down in front of her. It would feel so good to fuck her within an inch of her life and then never speak to her again. Because really it would be a mental fuck you to Macarena _fucking_ Ferreiro. A spiritual severing of the red string of fate that binds them together. The official snuffing out of the twin flame prophecy that Altagracia so graciously placed upon them back in prison.

Alas, Zulema is not knuckle-deep into what she thinks might actually be good pussy because of the prophetess herself. No, she is currently arguing with Altagracia Guerrero about their next course of action. Zulema doesn’t want to leave Ibiza. She’s enjoying her freedom. It’s been so long since she’s been able to party all day, dancing until dawn, sleeping for an hour, and then doing it all over again. 

She’s having—.

“ _Fun_ , Alta. Ever heard of it? It’s the thing people without sticks up their asses do to pass the time,” Zulema sasses because _honestly,_ she’s getting tired of the same argument. They’ve been having it for the last two days. 

Alta sighs heavily. She’s not here for Zulema’s shit anymore.

“Zulema, we need to move on. We can’t stay in one place too long. They’ll find us,” Altagracia reminds her. She would have been gone if Zulema wasn’t holding her portion of the money hostage for god only knows _what_ reason. 

“ _Hostia_ , _tia._ One more day isn’t going to kill us.”

“Not physically,” Alta tells her, “but if we get caught and go back to that hellhole, it’ll be the death of both of our spirits, not to mention _tu gitana preciosa_ will have to give birth in a fucking jail cell.”

Zulema knows she’s right. But she also knows she’s planned this perfectly. She’s even created an escape plan for their escape plan. When she doesn’t respond, Altagracia shakes her head and pushes away from the lounge chair with a huff. 

_Good_ , Zulema thinks, _now I can actually enjoy myself without her constant nagging_.

Except she finds that Ibiza isn’t much fun when she can’t annoy Altagracia. And as much as she wants to party with her best friend, Zulema has been determined to keep Saray and her unborn child safe from any harm. 

She stays by the pool for a bit longer, if only to prove a point of sorts. Whatever the fuck it may be. Zulema’s smart. Sharp as a scorpion’s tail and just as strategic in everything she does. So, she knows she needs to make nice with Altagracia because their escape is riding on their partnership. The brunette gulps down half of the drink, hoping it’ll hit her just in time to fabricate a half-assed apology to Altagracia.

She traipses through the lobby, up the elevator, and by the time it dings to signal her arrival, Zulema feels the alcohol slowly buzzing around in her brain. When she enters the room, Altagracia is by the minibar, making her own overpriced drink. She doesn’t glance up when the door shuts behind Zulema. In fact, she makes it a point to stand there and drink half of it while staring at the wall. 

“I’ll have my contacts pick us up via helicopter on the south side of the island early Thursday morning,” Zulema says by way of apology. 

“It’s Tuesday, Zahir. You’re good but you’re not that good.” It’s not quite an ‘apology accepted’, but it’s close. Zulema knows this because she and Alta speak the same language. 

Alta finally turns and crosses the room to the chair that faces the bed. Plops down with a grunt of age that Zulema knows all too well. 

“I’m the best.”

She’s not wrong. Zulema is cunning. Still, her confidence comes off as cocky and it makes Alta exhale a laugh. She leans forward, resting her forearms against her knees, glass of amber liquid still in her hand. 

“The best is a tad extreme. You’re alright, above average, at best.”

It’s bait. Zulema knows it is. She really should walk away from the challenge. But _goddamn it_ , she’s a shark and she just _has to_ bite. 

“You think you’re better?” Zulema crosses the room, standing at the foot of the bed. She crosses her arms over her chest and stares down Altagracia.

“I’m just as good.”

Alta cocks a brow and sips from the glass, lips turned up in a smirk. This is probably more of an insult to Zulema than anything: the idea that she could be anyone’s equal. 

Zulema half-scoffs, half-laughs and takes two steps towards Alta. Ever the alpha, Alta sets the glass on the floor and rises from the chair, unwilling to have Zulema attempt to assert any dominance over her, and stands toe-to-toe with her Egyptian counterpart. 

Zulema enjoys this dance with Altagracia. They’ve been doing this half-step for the greater part of two months. A dangerous tango of the wills that Zulema is sure will end with the dip of Altagracia’s arched back lifting off of whatever surface Zulema chooses to fuck her on.

 _If_ she chooses to fuck her at all. 

Decisions, decisions. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Zulema replies. It’s not her wittiest comeback, but it makes Alta’s smirk bigger. 

“And how will you do that? One of your infamous games disguised as a test?”

Alta doesn’t have time to blink before Zulema’s hand shoots forward and wraps around her neck. Zulema doesn’t account for Alta’s quick reflexes. She barely bats an eyelash before her own hand comes up and she grabs Zulema’s wrist and twists it. Zulema spins to avoid the pain of the arm being wrenched behind her back. With her back to Alta’s front, Zule’s right arm comes up and she swings it backwards to elbow Alta in the face, but the brunette anticipates the move.

Alta blocks the attack and chuckles in Zulema’s ear. “Oh, _now_ I’m having fun.” 

She pushes Zulema away, but yanks on the wrist she’s still holding and pulls Zulema’s front flush against her own. Zulema is almost lightheaded with arousal and fury and it only increases when Alta’s ankle slips behind hers and she pushes until Zulema’s back hits the bed. Alta’s knee presses into the mattress between Zulema’s legs as she hovers over the scorpion. Their mouths nearly meet but Alta’s hand grips Zulema’s chin. 

“Want to rethink that ‘equals’ thing, yet?”

Zulema tries to lunge forward, though she’s not sure to do what; _headbutt Alta? Bite her? Scream?_ It doesn’t matter. Her wrists are being held against the bed with the force of Altagracia’s grip. Zulema’s fury is replaced with paranoia. She doesn’t like to be bound. It’s too much like prison. Too much like her freedom is fleeting. It’s a harsh reality, even if it’s the truest one.

Coffee orbs search dark green ones and it’s clear that Altagracia understands. She releases Zulema’s hands, but continues to silently ask for permission to do whatever she wants to Zulema.

It’s too much for Zulema.

 _Zahir needs to be in control_ , Alta thinks. Her hands pull at Altagracia’s shirt. Altagracia grabs hold of her wrists, pushes Zulema away. The older woman tries again. 

If she can just—.

“ _Para_ ,” Alta commands, slamming Zulema’s hands against the bed in warning. “You’re not in control this time.”

Zulema hates her, she decides. Or rather, she hates that she’s turned on by being told what to do.

“I’m always in control,” Zulema says, and she’s trying to convince herself too. They both know the truth. Altagracia has read Zulema’s file, cover to cover. She hasn’t been in control of her life for a very long time. There was a brief span of time just before Macarena had entered Cruz Del Sur where Zulema had managed to rule with an iron fist. 

Power, it seems, escapes her grasp almost as easily as she escapes prison. 

Alta’s knee presses against Zulema’s center and she clenches her teeth to stop from moaning. Alta notices. She watches everything. Sees through pretty much all of Zulema’s bullshit and somehow she still likes Zulema. 

Alta kisses her way down Zulema's body, her thick, dark hair following suit. Zulema's skin smells like coconut sunscreen and salty ocean air. It’s a heady combination that makes Altagracia’s head spin as she unties the sash of Zulema’s bathing suit cover-up. When she reaches her final destination, Alta gently spreads Zulema's legs apart and massages the brunette through her bikini bottoms with the heel of her hand. She can feel slick heat through the material and it’s a boost of confidence to know that Zulema wants this as much as she does. Enjoying the sensation, Zulema can’t help but tense up, nearly shutting her legs completely. Alta kisses her knees as she uses her free hand to push them apart once again. Her pointer fingers hook into the waistband of the bathing suit bottoms and tugs until Zulema lifts up to let her pull the down and off. 

Altagracia leans in to give an introductory lick up the center of Zulema's pussy, reveling in her taste. She flicks her tongue over Zulema's clit, just to see her reaction and silently congratulates herself when it’s a favorable one. Because no matter what she tells herself, Alta wants Zulema’s approval. She takes the small bundle of nerves between her lips and sucks. Zulema squirms. Tries to get away from the overwhelming sensation. But Altagracia holds firm, sucks a bit harder.

Then it happens. 

Zulema moans.

One of her hands finds its way to Alta's head and twists itself in her dark tresses, pushing Alta's head harder against her. Alta wraps her arms under Zulema's thighs, holding her firmly while she laps up Zulema's juices, earning her more cream in the process. Simultaneously wrapping her lips around Zulema’s clit, Alta slips a finger inside and Zulema clenches around her immediately.

" _Unh_!" It’s a quiet sound. Almost shy. And Alta would like to hear it again. So she adds another finger. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Zulema whispers and she hates herself for it. Hates herself for relinquishing control. And for _enjoying_ it. 

Then another. 

Zulema’s hips toss out a wordless ‘fuck you’ to her brain as they begin to roll upwards on their own. Circle once. And again as she grinds against Altagracia’s face. 

But that’s not the game: topping from the bottom. Altagracia puts a quick stop to that. She pulls out of Zulema for a moment to glide her hands down the underside of Zulema’s thighs and pushes upward, forcing Zulema’s legs back. Zulema’s toes point and the muscles in calves flex as Alta rises up onto her knees and redoubles her effort of getting the older woman off. Fingers sink back into Zulema’s dewy depths and the tip of her tongue strums a delicately complex rhythm against her clit. Her fingers curl as she twists her hand from side to side. 

Zulema’s eyes are torn between watching Alta, who is now bathed in the light of the setting sun via the open terrace doors, and closing in order to cut off her sense of sight to focus solely on how Alta is making her _feel_.

Touch.

Zulema has missed this. Being touched so perfectly by someone who, somehow, knows her body all too well.

Alta’s middle finger caresses a hidden gem of a spot inside of her and Zulema can’t help it. She needs more. She murmurs ‘right there’ over and over until the words get trapped in her throat and her lips are just parted in a silent scream. Her eyes finally close and her head is nodding in the affirmative and it doesn’t matter if Altagracia can see it happening because the woman just fucking _knows_. Alta keeps her movements exact; not speeding up, nor slowing down, nor changing the firmness of her strokes.

And it is _everything_ Zulema needs. She reaches up and squeezes her own tits through the material of her bikini top and she allows herself to be completely pulled under by the currents, and if she drowns in the exhilarating feeling…. then so be it.


	2. Novias o No?

* * *

She doesn’t drown, per se, but Zulema finds it hard to catch her breath as wave after wave of ecstasy wash over her. It feels like every time her head peeks over the tide, Altagracia crooks her fingers _just_ _right_ and she’s swept back under. After her third orgasm, Zulema has to use what little strength she has left to pry Alta’s hand from her thigh while pushing her head away from her cunt. 

Alta gives her a break, but only long enough to get them both completely naked, and then she is kneeling onto the bed once more, just  _ looking _ .

“Que?” Zulema asks. She’s trying for annoyance, but Alta can hear the slight shake of insecurity in her voice. 

Alta shakes her head once, refusing to say what she’s thinking because this isn’t fucking romance. This isn’t a fairytale. This is just… fucking. A simple release of endorphins. The cutting of the tension that’s been making their air around them ridiculously thick. Where they go after this, Altagracia is uncertain, but what she is certain about is the look on Zulema’s face right now. She’s open and ready for more, but also slightly unsure as to what to do.

Zulema Zahir is… a pillow princess? Or is this just her first time with a woman? Altagracia can’t fathom either idea, not that it matters. Alta’s pleasure comes from seeing others enjoying themselves in the most intimate setting.

So, she hovers overtop of Zulema, running a hand from sternum to pelvic bone, deciding what exactly she wants to do to Zulema next. But when her hand reaches Zulema’s cunt, the brunette grasps at her wrist and her legs tense. She’s sensitive, and she’s wordlessly telling Alta this, but Altagracia knows that the best pleasure comes when one pushes past that feeling.

“Don’t make me handcuff you, Zahir.”

She does, after all, still have the handcuffs that she gave Zulema the key to when she helped her escape. 

Zulema’s eyes flash at the idea. She doesn’t like being tied up, but what really turns her on is what happened to those cuffs after she took them off. They’d shackled Frutos to the bus and Alta had pressed down on the gas. Two bumps and that had been it.

_ Oh god, they may still have his blood on them. _

Zulema shivers at the prospect, and Alta notices. She takes this as a permission and climbs off of the bed in search of them. Zulema watches Alta’s slender back that dips and curves to form her perfect ass. Thighs that looked butter soft and legs that clearly have a perfected workout regimen. Bathed in the cooler tones of the setting sun, now, Alta holds up the handcuffs, dangling them from one finger. Zule grins and she slips back into bed. Back on top of Zulema. She remains unfazed when Zulema runs her hand up her back and pulls at her hair. Alta bites her lip.

Zulema slides a hand between their bodies. Slips easily through her arousal and tests her limits with a single finger inside. Alta’s lips part and she holds eye contact with Zulema. Zulema enters another and there’s an audible intake of breath from Alta. 

Zulema smirks. 

Alta hates it. So, she wraps one hand around Zulema’s throat and rises up until she’s kneeling on the bed again. The only difference this time is that Zulema is now pushing her fingers knuckle deep inside of the younger brunette while pressing her thumb against Altagracia’s clit. It moves back and forth, smearing Alta’s essence across the hardened bundle of nerves. Alta squeezes the sides of Zulema’s neck as she lifts up and then sinks back down onto her fingers.

Fuck, that was sexy.

Up. Down.

Up. Down.

A circle of her hips.

Zulema’s thumb speeds up and her fingers curl towards her own body whenever Alta thrusts back down.

Alta establishes the perfect rhythm for riding Zulema’s fingers and she’s so close. Just before it happens, Zulema surprises her by sneaking in a third finger during one of Alta’s downward strokes and Alta head lolls back and she moans loudly toward the ceiling. Her tits bounce and Zulema reaches up to pinch one of her nipples. Alta likes that. She can tell by the way her pussy squeezes against her fingers. So she does it again to the other nipple.

Alta cunt grips her fingers, while Alta’s fingers grip Zulema’s neck.

“Again. Harder,” pants Altagracia.

Zulema pinches harder and she watches Alta’s brows knit together and her face contorts into one of unbridled pleasure. Zulema moves her fingers in quick ‘come hither’ motions inside of Altagracia, and lifts up just enough to suck one of Alta’s nipples into her mouth, biting down as she pinches the other. Alta’s body jerks ferociously and she comes loudly. Unapologetically. 

And Zulema fucking loves it.

Loves that she can do this to a woman because up until now, though she’ll never admit it aloud, she’s had no experience with women.

Ever.

Now as she looks at Altagracia ride the final waves of her orgasm, Zulema realizes that she is addicted. She wants to keep making her feel this good. It makes Zulema feel good.

_ Oh _ .

_ This is yet another form of power _ , she realizes, and it’s intoxicating. 

It is, however, short-lived though, because she’s surprised Altagracia, and now the younger brunette needs to regain control of the situation. She yanks Zulema’s fingers out of her and easily captures Zulema’s wrists into the cuffs. Altagracia loops the chain that’s supposed to connect the handcuffs to the ankle cuffs around one of the slats of the wooden headboard, and Zulema hears them click shut. She has some pull, but not enough to reach out and touch Altagracia.

_ Puta morena _ , she thinks.

Alta slips one leg over Zulema’s and the moment their cunts slide together with a deliciously warm, wet friction, Zulema forgets all about the fact that she’s restrained. Instead, she focuses on pumping her hips up and rolling them in conjunction with Alta’s. Every other thrust, their clits bump together and they both groan in unison.

Zulema likes the way Alta murmurs ‘fuck’ under her breath. And the way she squeezes both one of Zulema’s tits and her own. And the way she indulges in their shared, unbearably delectable feeling by rounding her hips slowly and grinding down hard just when Zulema needs it the most.

But mostly, she likes the way Alta breathes--.

“Zulema.”

_ Yeah _ , Zulema muses,  _ just like that _ .

Alta comes first, body barely moving except her hips that pump in short, jerky movements that do wonders for Zulema’s body as well. She cries out to the ceiling and then uses her thumb to push back on Zulema’s pelvic muscle, exposing her clit just that much more. And it does the trick because a few pumps later, Zulema is tumbling into the abyss right behind her. 

When they’re spent, Alta’s upper body falls against Zulema’s and she takes the opportunity to kiss the brunette’s neck, making Zulema’s body jolt every now and then. Finally, Zulema shifts uncomfortably and Alta takes the hint. She reaches up and undoes the ankle cuffs from the bedpost, but doesn’t uncuff Zulema’s wrist.

The second Zulema’s shackled wrists are unhooked from the bed, she loops her arms around Altagracia’s neck. She wraps an ankle around Alta’s waist and pushes off of the bed, flipping until she is on top. Not to be done, Alta pushes against the bed as well and assumes a seated position. Tits against tits, core against core, Alta wraps one arm around Zule and they gaze at one another. A challenge. Her fingers spread gently across the center of Zulema’s back and she slides her hand upwards until her digits kiss damp, dark hair. She aches to pull on it, but she’s unsure of where Zulema lies with that sort of thing. 

Zulema presses impossibly closer, handcuffs digging into Alta’s back. She’s asking for something, but Altagracia is a firm believer in ‘closed mouths don’t get fed’. She leans back, balancing herself by pressing her free hand behind her on the bed. 

Zulema’s hips move slightly. Alta smirks. 

_ Oh _ . 

“Say it,” commands Alta. 

“Fuck you,” Zulema spits, but there’s no real meaning behind the words. They are just that: words. Because her actions are speaking much louder. Her nails are creating half-moon indentations on the back of Alta’s neck. 

Alta rolls her hips, her clit grinding deliciously against Zulema’s. It literally takes Zulema’s breath away and she sighs in relief. 

“Again.”

Altagracia wants to tease her a bit more; wants to tell Zulema to  _ ask her nicely* _ , but she’s also dying for some relief. So, she rolls her hips again and their eyes close at the same time as they relish in the feeling. It’s been a long time since Zulema has allowed herself to let go and feel this good. Hell, it’s been so long since she’s simply allowed herself to  _ feel _ . And what she feels is oddly safe with Altagracia. She doesn’t feel like Altagracia will take advantage of Zule’s vulnerability. 

They’re the same, or at least two sides of the same coin. Zulema is attracted to intelligence and danger. Altagracia is both of those things and then some.

Alta doesn’t know what she feels. She just knows that she sees something in Zulema that reminds her that taking risks pays off. She’s both hard and soft in a way that only a woman who has been through some things can pull off. 

Zulema wants to touch Alta again.  _ Stupid fucking handcuffs _ . She settles for fisting her hands in Alta’s hair and using the cuffed wrists around Alta’s neck to bring her close again. If she can’t use her hands to make Altagracia come, she’ll use her words. 

Lips against Alta’s ear, Zulema whispers the filthiest sentiments. Some that send goosebumps up Altagracia’s arms, some that make her nipples tighten even harder.

But the ones that send Alta spiraling over the edge should make her ashamed, but they don’t.

“ _ A ver _ , theft, escaping from prison, inciting riots,” she dips her tongue inside of Alta’s ear before finishing, “ _ murder _ . Maybe we are equals, after all.”

And Alta is gone.

Zulema slips her arms over Alta’s head and lets her fall backward onto the bed, but Alta isn’t finished with her just yet. She’s been fantasizing about one last thing for these last two months. Been wondering what it would be like if she ever got the opportunity, and since they’ve already done plenty to one another, Alta can’t pass this up.

She pushes at Zulema’s thighs, opening them up just a bit more.

“Stay there,” she commands and she slides downward on the bed. Zulema realizes what she’s doing and she raises up just enough to accommodate Alta’s movements.

“Sit,” Alta demands of her.

So she sits. On Altagracia’s face. Sinks down on her awaiting tongue and groans louder than she ever has before. Zulema is reminded of that old wive’s tale: if it feels sinful, it is. And if she wasn’t going to hell already, she certainly is now because she could sin like that for the rest of her life.

Alta open-mouth kisses Zulema’s pussy while her tongue flicked up and down and around. She is everywhere all at once and Zulema’s eyes close at the sensations she begins to feel. Her nerve endings are on fire. Her skin feels how to the touch and all she can do is take it. When it begins to feel like it’s too much, Zulema tries to lift up, but Alta’s hands wrap around her thighs and she pulls her firmly back down.

Alta moans into her cunt.

Tears of euphoria prickle at the corner of Zulema’s eyes. Her hands fall to the top of Alta’s head and she humps Alta’s face in quick succession. Alta’s hums her encouragement. When Zulema comes, it is powerful and Alta does her best to clean up the mess she makes before Zulema’s body slides off of her face and onto the bed, panting. 

Alta wipes her mouth and chin with the back of her hand and Zulema thinks it’s the sexiest thing she’s ever seen. 

Her wrists are unbound. 

The sun has set.

They succumb to their exhaustion.

They never kiss.

* * *

The next morning, they have brunch with Saray. Or rather Saray eats for two while Zulema and Altagracia pretend to not know one another. 

“ So ,” Saray asks, cheek full of the disgusting cream cheese and papaya combination, “ _ estais novias ahora o no _ ?”

Zulema thanks god for the dark sunglasses on her face. “ _ Que _ ?” Zulema pretends not to know what the fuck Saray is talking about. It’s her tell, but Saray will never let her know this.

“You fucked.”

Alta pulls a foot up, rests it against the seat of her chair and reaches for her coffee cup. The warm ocean breeze whips through the hair that has fallen out of her ponytail. 

“Doesn’t matter how much a hotel costs, the walls are always thin,” Saray explains, before popping an olive into her mouth. “So? What is this, like, a  _ thing _ now?”

Neither Zulema nor Altagracia responds. Not that Saray expects them to. Altagracia is just as secretive about her personal shit as Zule is. 

“Ladies,” the young, blonde waitress from yesterday has found them again, “just so you guys know, there’s a Halloween party on the island tonight.”

“Is it Halloween already?” Alta wonders aloud, reaching over to take the flyer that the waitress passes her way.

She turns back to Zulema, winking at the older woman. “I’ll be the one dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.”

Zulema lifts her sunglasses onto her head and sizes up the blonde. “I’ll remember that.”

When the waitress leaves, Alta chuckles sardonically and bites into a slice of wheat toast. 

“ _ Qué te pasa _ ?” Zulema asks, jutting her chin in Alta’s direction.

“ _ Nada _ ,” Altagracia responds, “just trying to picture  _ you _ as the big bad wolf after seeing you coming on my fingers.”

Saray’s hand slips in shock and her fork clatters onto her plate, drawing the attention of the older brunettes. 

Zulema doesn’t respond. She simply grins into the sip of coffee.

She fucks Alta again after brunch, this time on the terrace where passersby stop to enjoy the show every so often. Puts that smart mouth to good use.

Then that night, Zulema, dressed ironically as a prisoner, flirts with the cute bartender with dreadlocks and an incredible body. Fucks him, too, then once his break is over, receives free drinks for the remainder of the night.

She’s still got it, she thinks.

And then Alta calls.

And Zulema knows. Something is off.

“Start the car,” she tells Alta, “I have a bad feeling. If I don’t show up in fifteen minutes, put your foot down hard, and don’t look back.”

“Vale,” Alta answers. She exhales shakily over the phone. “ _ Oye, morita _ , when I met you, I knew we  _ were _ either going to kill each other or become friends.”

“ _ Ya _ ,” Zulema responds, and now she  _ knows _ . “Well, when I met you, you covered me in chicken shit, so you’re right.”

Despite what’s happening, Alta chuckles over the phone.

“I’d say things have improved,” Zulema finishes.

They’re both silent for a few moments before Alta tells her, “Take care of yourself, okay?”

The phone is disconnected and Zulema looks around the party, dark green eyes taking in everything. She asks herself, “So, where did I go wrong?”

All the signs were there.

But she was having too much fun to notice. Enjoying her freedom too long to remember that freedom for her, is always fleeting.

There was Dracula without his cape. The cape is the coolest part. Unless, of course, one is armed, then things could get awkward.

Elvis with his military boots.

Zulema pinches the bridge of her nose as she realizes that the guy dressed as a cop has a standard issue cop’s belt, with real handcuffs. Much like the ones that Alta had secured around her wrists less than twenty-four hours ago. She can’t help but wonder: did I manifest this?

Little Red Riding Hood,  _ that bitch _ ! She’d come with a big bad wolf, but the two hadn’t looked at one another all night.

But her biggest fuck up of the entire night is that she hadn’t noticed the pirate sitting at the bar. The pirate that hasn’t taken a single sip of his drink the entire night.

She turns back towards the bar that has suddenly emptied except for the pirate at hand. She smiles sardonically, leaning against the bartop.

“And it’s not as if you don’t enjoy a drink, right, Castillo?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *”ask me nicely 🍒”, -putas ratas gc, copyright 2021.


End file.
